


Take Me To Church

by Megalodont



Series: Stephen King Fanwork [1]
Category: Children of the Corn (Movies), Children of the Corn - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternative Lifestyles, Biblical References, Children, Cults, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, Insanity, Inspired by Florence + the Machine, Killing, Knitting, Murder, My First Work in This Fandom, Past Character Death, Past Domestic Violence, Past Underage Sex, Pregnant Character, Psychological Horror, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Reader-Insert, References to Canon, Revolution, Teenage Rebellion, Underage Drinking, What Have I Done, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9249734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalodont/pseuds/Megalodont
Summary: It was blood she desired most; A psychotic craving, she didn't just want to kill, shelivedfor it. It was the mess her animalistic urges left that parried her lust for slaughter. Aside from that, her wanton needs trumped the need to speak, to engage,to fuck, unless of course, her master required these things of her, then she gladly complied.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes more from the Second film than the first. Alternate canon where Micah lives, but continues to lead the children of the corn. Written in the second person, because I thought it would be cooler.

>                           _**A MAN WHO'S PURE OF HEART AND SAYS HIS PRAYERS BY NIGHT MAY STILL BECOME A WOLF WHEN THE AUTUMN MOON IS BRIGHT**_

The poor, damned soul that had happened to crawl into the small shack was doomed; His fate was to be met at the end of swift and blinding steel. She looked sweet as pie sitting in that chair, rocking back and forth as she worked at her knitting, but you knew she was fully aware of your guest and you knew exactly what she'd do to him. One could almost pity her, sitting in that chair. The evident signs of pregnancy were protruding from her, in certain angles you could see her swollen belly and a slight fatigue in her eyes. This facade perfectly hid the monster beneath. She was only fourteen years old, but the way she carried herself was much more mature. The carrot-orange hair was wistfully tied back, revealing her freckled face and electric blue eyes. You'd been assigned to protect the girl. It only made sense, as she was your kin- a cousin. Only you truly knew the sadism beneath those innocent eyes. Some part of you truly pitied her. You knew the method to her madness and it was enough to drive anyone off their rocker. The crawling stranger looked up at her with bleary eyes, panting hard as he approached her. He had no idea what was coming next and you were glad of it. The poor bastard had been one the others had chased into the cornfield and you recalled his name was Ernest. It didn't matter, because he would soon be no more, and his name would certainly be the last thing he would be thinking of at that time. 

"Please," He pleaded, gripping onto her leg. You knew he was definitely going to die. She was very disturbed and meeting strangers upset her. And this poor fool had touched her. If she did not kill him, you knew the father of her child would. Her partner was less protective of her and more of the child she carried. The babe was the future and it pleased Him so. The god, He Who Walks Behind The Rows had chosen her and their leader, Micah. You did not envy her, but you did not believe He had chosen them, as Micah said. You believed that Micah had wanted to secure his legacy before he passed the Age of Favor. However, none of the other members had been shown otherwise, so you assumed that He was pleased with it nonetheless.

You remembered another time though, when she was just a scared little girl, hiding in the broom closet of your Aunt and Uncle's house, listening to them fight and abuse each other so. Her sanity ebbed away with each scream, each blow until she was nothing but a hot mess of anger and delusion. She was a pyschopath, created in a dark little hole. It was as simple as that. She answered to another name now and it suited you just fine. Most kids changed their name when they joined the Children of The Corn, and you were the same tune and words. 

"Help me." The stranger begged, his head leaning against her. You watched her set her knitting down, a strange look on her face. You knew what was coming next, her benign face was masterfully played and he seemed to trust her wholly in that instance. She leant forward, a hand extended as if to help him to his feet. Instead, in the blink of an eye, she had sliced his neck open and he fell to the ground at her feet. You had barely caught the glint of steel pass over his skin before his throat erupted blood like a carnivorous volcano. She nodded to you and you stood, walking out the doorway facing the corn field and shouted

"Micah!" Around the corner, the raven haired boy trotted through the stalks and smiled at the scene before him. You turned back to her, watching her set the knife down. You helped her to her feet, though it wasn't necessary. She was only five months along and could still stand on her own. The other boys came in and pulled the body into the field, Micah strode toward her quietly, ebony hair tousling slightly in the wind. As far as being attractive, you had seen far better than him before. But you knew as well as anyone he was her Adonis. The Clyde to her Bonnie, the Macbeth to her Lady of Glamis. In the rarest moments of her elucidations, she spoke only to him. He only took second to her insane drive to kill.

It was blood she desired most; A psychotic craving, she didn't just want to kill, she _lived_ for it. It was the mess her animalistic urges left that parried her lust for slaughter. Aside from that, her wanton needs trumped the need to speak, to engage, _to fuck_ , unless of course, her master required these things of her, then she gladly complied.

"Thank you, [Y/N]. " Micah nodded, before turning to her. Gently cupping her face, he smiled slightly.

"So messy." He said, eliciting a girlish giggle from her. You watched the corn sway to and fro in the moonlight, before the unmistakable sound of corn falling broke the air. He was here. Everyone paused, watching, waiting. There was a long silence, before Micah smiled.

"He is pleased with us." She almost burst with excitement, nothing made her revel more than pleasing He Who Walks Behind The Rows. You swallowed and turned back to face her, she was glowing with pride, it was practically bursting from her chest. Micah too looked proud, and you had no doubt this was an affirmation for him, a sign he had chosen the right girl to cement his legacy here. She and him were a matched pair, both each other's dark angel. 

"You've done well, 'Mima." Micah smiled, turning to face her. "Our master is proud."

And when your lord was pleased, Micah was pleased.


End file.
